


Boredom

by BattleAubergine



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 22:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattleAubergine/pseuds/BattleAubergine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The utter boredom of a 57 year old who cannot die, is trapped in the body of a 'perfect' 17 year old, and can never escape the droning thoughts of everyone around them. Then you're forced into the knowledge that you can never escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End.

**Author's Note:**

> All I own is the plot. Twilight is all Stephanie Meyers. May grow into a chaptered fic if I get enough feedback. Read and enjoy!

I looked over the pile of photos on my desk, my long brown hair falling continually in my face. I’d brush it from my face but what’s the use? My disturbingly sharp eyesight makes the hair a non-issue. I rub my eyes, and wish I could sleep. There are more than a few pictures of my mother asleep- before she changed, that is.  
  
The girl in the photos, with her pinkish skin, and brown hair, so much like my own, but flatter. She smiles in a few of them, the sort of smile someone gives when they think someone isn’t looking.  
  
I see a few photos of my father in there too. Here and there, always straight-faced and stoic and pale as can be. While my mother’s young body curls and gently bends to fit in his arms, his skin has no give, no softness to it. He’s never been anything but hard angles and chiseled flats.  
  
My stomach curdles when I look over the pictures of my mother and my... husband. His deep brown eyes looking happy and bright when next to her. Glancing over to his sleeping form, I can safely say I never saw those happy brown eyes aimed at me. I shiver, and scratch some phantom itch from habit. The sound of my nails dragging against my nearly marble skin almost wakes him up, before he returns to his deep slumber.  
  
Typical, I think as I continue flipping through the scrapbook. My grandfather Charlie looked so happy with his little girl, that beaming smile that fathers are supposed to have, mixed with a sense of uneasiness around their daughters. The small well of hope that he can one day find something to talk about and bond with his child over.  
  
My father never did that. Even before Charlie passed, he always bristled in just that way to let Charlie know he wasn’t welcome. Father hated reminding Mother of her life- her old life. I once heard Father yell at some old friend of Mothers- some man named Mike, bearing flowers for Mother. A few weeks later his picture showed up as missing in the papers. Father looked so pleased, he thought I didn’t notice the contact lenses on Mother.  
  
Rose and Emmett flit through my mind. I remember them being nice, though Rose was hungry. Always hungry. She hated Mother for birthing me. And yet she couldn’t bear to harm a hair on my pretty perfect head. But she thought I didn’t see the images in her mind that came, unbidden by the very thought of my Parents together.  
  
The deep yawning hungry chasm in her mind, that Emmett could never quite fill, always just barely sustaining her, but reminding her of the boy she could never have. And then I came along, with my big brown eyes and my flawless skin and my cheeks, never rosy, but pale like my family.  
  
I spat into the trash bin beside my door, as I left my office. Effortlessly silent as I slipped onto the roof. I pull a pack of cigarettes I’ve been hiding from Jacob, and lit one up, letting the harsh smoke fill my never living lungs. It gives an odd feeling in my mind, an almost serenity, as I blow smoke rings into the brisk night air. The moon shines down, and I make sure I don’t look at myself. I always hated how I was the one who was allowed to go to school on sunny days, how I was always the one sent to prevent outsiders from finding out. From knowing.  
  
The glint from my hand catches my eye, and for a second, I contemplate tearing it off. Rending myself limb from limb and hurling myself into the wind. But I know it won’t work. It never does. My body always reforms and leaves not even a scratch when it’s done. Not even my mind shuts off when I do it. I cannot feel pain, but the unending emptiness inside when it happens is blinding. The silence is deafening. And yet, for just a moment, I can be happy. I cannot hear the dreams of my Husband, the thoughts of my neighbors, the eternal cacophony of the world, every thought and dream and nightmare, forever to be heard in my mind, an echo chamber of wants and needs and fears.  
  
And I can’t even drink myself into oblivion to forget.  
  
As I finish the cigarette, the sun starts to peek it’s rays over the horizon, gently sifting through the trees like slow golden honey, filling the world. I duck down through the skylight and return to my husband’s bedroom, crossing it to my office. It disturbs me how he insisted on my office being attached to the bedroom, almost like he could keep an eye on me. The man falls asleep and he’s dead to the world. But for all he knows, I’m a good little girl, who never dares step outside of the fence he thinks I don’t know about.  
  
Everyone treats me like a child still, though my body has been seventeen for fifty years now. I wake up, expecting to see wrinkles, my hair greying, my body slowly starting to decay. And instead I feel... nothing. The smoke I inhale to try and forget only lasts so long, before I must return to being ‘His’.  
  
I pretend to not hear him as he stumbles downstairs, half blind with sleep. He starts the coffee machine, and I cannot fight the curl of my lip as the bitter black smell from downstairs is picked up. Disgusting.  
  
I pull my hair into a ponytail, because I know it makes me look less like Mother, with her long wild hair, in perfect wavy curls and golden highlights she never held in life. Trying to not stiffen up in disgust, my husband ‘sneaks’ up behind me and wraps his arms around my torso, squeezing tight like he can make me short of breath  
  
“Heya, gorgeous. Whatcha’ doing?” Jacob asks, the smell of eggs and sausage and sickening amounts of bacon on his breath.  
  
“Not much, looking over Mother’s old things.” I say, feeling Jacob cringe as I say Mother.  
  
“C’mon, Ness. Don’t be like that, Bells hates it when you call her that.” He says, nuzzling his lips against my neck, and I feel my toes curl under the desk.  
  
“I know...” I say, all sweet and innocent. “But I just don’t like disrespect that ‘Mom’ brings- you know how Father is. I just...” And I force myself to be the naive seven year old, trapped in an eighteen year old’s body, unknowing, not understanding why she could never hear silence. Not knowing why she was getting a pretty white dress and lacy things and the hungry stares from her once brother now fiancee. She hadn’t understood why everyone ‘cried’ when she spoke the words Auntie Rose and Auntie Alice made her memorize by heart.  
  
Now she understood. Fifty years of matrimony, of highschool, of hiding, of pretending she didn’t notice when they looked at her funny. Of people wondering why she always moved away just as school ended for yet another high school with yet another name, with yet another set of parents. Her brother turned fiancee turned father in the public eye.  
  
“Uh... Ness...” Jacob muttered, looking concerned. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, I had failed to realize I had started growling and my grip had tightened so much on my drafting table, that it had snapped under the pressure.  
  
Jacob’s once strong frame had softened over the years, a cushy quiet life had lead to him slowly easing up on the shifting. Though he still looked young for his age, his once washboard abs, had softened into the body of a slightly pudgy 40 year old man. He started to back out, forgetting about the glass door behind him, holding him in the same room as me. He reached for his phone. The one benefit of being a half-blood and a werewolf couple, is Alice couldn’t spy. I let out a deep guttural snarl before picking up the shattered remnants of the drafting table over my head and smashing them against the wall.  
  
Fear flashed in his eyes, true honest fear filling his mind. I felt him start to try and shift, several years out of practice. I nearly launched myself forward, but pulled back. I needed to think. Jacob was nothing but a dog. I made myself calm down and pretend to faint. Let them sort it out. Some rage fit, perhaps. I couldn’t get out yet.  
  
Yet.


	2. A glimpse in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Duothimir and Riese for helping beta.

The three vampires moved into their positions around the room, as the middle-aged man took his seat. He shuffled his feet and adjusted his sheriff windbreaker. Charlie felt the eyes of everyone in the room boring into him, and he took a shaky breath as he faced the most leaderly-looking one. The dark red eyes gave away no secrets, and the man’s face was so still it could have been mistaken for a statue of some bygone era.  
  
Every instinct in Charlie’s body was telling him to run, run now, and run as fast and as far as he could. Fighting it all back, his hands stuffed themselves firmly into his pockets to hide their shaking.  
  
Finally the statue moved, an air of contempt in its tone.   
  
“Why again would you want to do this for us? Surely you cannot be serious in this... proposition of yours.” Caius said, his face the youngest of any in the room.  
  
“Family is family.” Charlie said, his eyes flitting to the others. “I just want to protect my girl, and her new family. And if that means this, then I suppose that’s what I’ll do.”  
  
“You do realize there is no... precedent, for this. Every other case of this happening has been rather... swiftly turned down and removed. Why should you be any different?” asked the one Charlie was almost sure was named Marcus.   
  
“I don’t know the others you might’ve been approached by before. But I was told you could... what is it? Read thoughts? More’n Edward can anyway.” Charlie bit his lip and pulled up his sleeve. “You’ll see my intentions are pure. I just want to help my daughter, any way I can.”  
  
The next few moments of silence were deafening, and the pit in Charlie’s stomach grew larger.  
  
“Counter proposal!” The third one, who so far had been silent, called. “We let you do this, but we change you.”  
  
The blood drained from Charlie’s face. “Change? You mean become a... become like your folk?”   
  
“Yes, see, we can’t afford to let the, if you don’t mind my language, ‘cattle’ become aware. One or two sightings and a handful of depressive teenagers we can take. But a respected law official?” Aro clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s simply too much risk to allow you this without some form of... protection.”  
  
“Protection?” Charlie felt like a goddamn parrot, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something innately terrifying about these people. Something that told him they’d serve him up and eat him as soon as look at him. Keeping his granddaughter in mind, he cleared his throat. “I don’t have much. But I can access things you guys couldn’t. You’d stand out in a heartbeat, but I’m, well... I’m forty-five, I’ve been an officer for over thirty years. I can walk into any police station and request records, and I’m pretty sure no one would blink an eye.”  
  
Charlie paused to try and gauge the mood of the room, to see if he should continue. “And even if they did, my badge is legitimate, and I have thirty years of casework under my belt to prove it. All I’m saying is... for a group who don’t like being seen, you’re awful ostentatious, if you don’t mind me saying.”  
  
Aro’s eyebrow arched and Charlie’s brief surge of bravery vanished. This was it. Now he’d gone and done it, going to be eaten by some underground Italian cult, and he didn’t even get to leave a note for Sue. He felt very small in the marble room, and his legs were beginning to lose feeling on the unforgivingly cold wooden chair they’d given him to sit in. His hands fidgeted in his pocket, and he thought his heart might burst, before an odd sound filled the room. It took him a moment to realize it was the sound of Aro laughing.  
  
Charlie wasn’t sure if he should relax, or cry, or piss himself.   
  
“This one is clever, isn’t he, Marcus?” Aro said, still chuckling.  
  
“I suppose he does have... a point.” Caius muttered, glaring daggers into Charlie, unfazed by his partner’s mirth.  
  
Cold hands clasped Charlie’s shoulders, and he felt the pinch through his jacket. Lifted unceremoniously, all he could do was try to keep up with the long strides of the assistant vampires he hadn’t heard come in.  
  
“We’ll think about it. Do stay near, dear. We’d hate for this to... get out.” Aro said, calling after Charlie as he was removed.


	3. A Widow's Lament

As I lay prone on the floor, I listened to my idiot-puppy of a husband talk to Alice on the phone. Were I with anyone but my family I’d have easily passed for dead, some callback to Sleeping Beauty or Snow White.

 

“I don’t know what happened, Al. One minute she’s fine and the next...” He sighs and I can hear the fear creep into his voice again. “The next it’s like I was cornered by an animal.”

 

I listen to my aunt hrm and hum, and I can practically smell the pencil she’s chewing on. Horrible habit. Not that I’m one to talk, but still. I can barely make out what she’s saying as she talks to someone- probably her husband, Jasper. Nice enough, I suppose. Dull as a fence post.

 

“We’ll be there in an hour. We’re down in Montana, you see. Or else I’d be there sooner. Keep an eye on her when she wakes up. Don’t let her leave.” My aunt finally says.

 

I can practically feel the waves of concern coming off my husband. His fear leaving deliciously sweet waves in the air. “Yeah, got it Al. You bringing Jasper, or...?” he asks, stepping out of my office. He hadn’t dared move me from my spot. I open my eyes and watch his next movements.

 

The rage that had bubbled up in me, faltered. I watched the walls of my cell closing back in, and I suddenly felt very small. The thought of tolerating my aunt and uncle was nauseating at best, and the thought of dealing with them for few days? Even so much as a week? Panic filled me. Alice was at worst, annoying. I was her unaging life-sized doll for her to dress. More than half of my wardrobe would up and vanish and be suddenly replaced within a day of her arriving.

 

My real concern was my uncle. He wasn’t much fun to talk to, unless you liked listening to him complain about the inaccuracies of civil war documentaries, but the true danger lay within his power. Able to sense emotions, he’d see through me in an instant if I weren’t careful. But his ability to manipulate them lead to much of my childhood being forced down into a glass box, while he kept me pliable. Easy to manage, the perfect doll of a child. I never cried, I never fussed. I was happy in the most unobtrusive way a child could be. This lead to many a forest lash out session when I was meant to be hunting, and I did develop a method of hunting that was... messy. But it was my outlet. My one saving grace.

 

That and the summers I was allowed to visit my grandfather. Three blissful months of no  chaperones, no emotional boxes, no bright open white rooms with a sense of boredom based apathy infused in them.

 

It was freedom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I know it’s not much...” Charlie said, scratching the back of his neck. “But it’s home. Files are downstairs. Kitchen is down the hall if you need it. Bedrooms are upstairs. Yours is first door on the right, bathroom is at the end of the hallway. Any uh... questions?”

 

Renesmee simply stood in the entryway, spellbound by the cabin. Bookshelves lined every wall, and the chairs that sat by the dormant fireplace looked like they could eat someone in the sheer level of comfort. Kicking off her shoes gently, she hefted her multiple bags into a better position. It was tightly packed, doors separating rooms for privacy.

 

“Is it alright? Earth to kiddo. Y’aiight?” He asked, breaking the enchantment.

 

She dropped her bags and in one fluid movement hugged him tight. “It’s perfect!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A wave of calm swept over me as I sat in the living room. I suppose they’re here now, I thought, in a forced cheerful way, not daring to let the contempt I held for these people show.

 

Jacob guided Alice and Jasper in, his confidence boosted by the company; all while I sat demurely in the sitting room. The comfortable silence Renesmee had been sitting in, was shattered by the ear-splitting shriek of glee.

 

“Nessie! It’s been so long! It’s been an age!” She shouted, and rushed me for a hug and a hair ruffle. I stifled a shudder of disgust, and instead played the petulant child card.

 

“Oh Auntie!” I said in my sweetest voice. “I’m fifty-seven! I think I’m a little old for ‘Nessie’, Alice.”

 

“Oh honey, you’re never too old for Nessie,” She said with an impish smile. “I’ll always be your auntie. So! What’s up, Kiddo? I heard there was some trouble earlier. Care to share?”

 

Feeling Jasper’s powers take over again, I fought the urge to tell my motives. “I dunno. I kinda just felt... ucky.” I scrunched up my face as I emphasized the motion. I don’t care if it’s demeaning, no way in hell would they let me get away with this.

 

I notice Jasper’s watchful eyes, and I try to tone back the act. One word of warning from him, and this whole thing could be jeopardized.

 

“I’d offer to get you a drink, but...” Jacob started, with a chuckle and a shrug. “I think I got some bagged stuff from when ‘Ness was still cataloging, but I know it’s not uh. The same.”

 

A light turns on behind Alice’s eyes. “So how goes that? You still visiting that stuffy old cabin? I wish you’d let me redecorate it. A more open floor-plan would do wonders.”

 

“No!” I shouted, my voice dropping to my usual range. and suddenly at full volume. My stance snapped to the defensive for but a moment.

 

I watched Jasper- and everyone else in the room- recoil as I let out an unplanned burst of anger. I tried desperately to do damage control.

 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just don't wanna change anything, it seems almost disrespectful, yanno?" I say in my sweetest voice, but the damage is done- with Jasper at least. Alice just gives a soft nod.

 

"I guess, Renesmee...” I cringe inside as she pointedly uses my full name. “So what do you do now? Highschool? College? Any new degrees in the last few years~?" She asks as she backs away, and takes her seat.

 

"I got a few degrees in psychology a few years ago. And I’ve been keeping up with that... but I guess I've just been, I dunno. I just haven't really been in the mood for it. Especially now that my husband looks like my father. It makes school feel kind of awkward." I shrug, trying to seem delicate. This situation is one I know Jacob fears, and I watch the room tense as I try to gently laugh it off."Besides, we've been here... gosh. Thirty years now? I almost forget what it's like outside of this place."

 

I know it's an easy out, but it's a way to get them off my back. If they think I'm just shallow, and having doubts because of looks, they might just move on. The predictable light of an idea shines in Alice's eyes.

 

"I know just what you need. Maybe you should move- this old place must be just so stressful for you. A change would do you good." Alice says, satisfied that she has diagnosed the problem.

 

A good change like my foot up your ass. But instead I act like she's just discovered the fix for a particularly squeaky tap.

 

"Alice, I bet that's just it. I just got itchy feet and didn't realize it. But I hate to leave Charlie's cabin..." I say, adding a mournful sigh at the end. "I'm so sorry I snapped at you, Jake. I just don't know how it came over me so fast. Do you forgive me, babe?"

 

God I hate this. I'm fifty fucking seven, I shouldn't have to be babying a grown man’s feelings. I know I'm treading dangerously in my thoughts, but I just can't stand this. Seven goddamn years of this bullshit, and now I remember why I insisted on an extended 'honeymoon' period.

 

Jacob gives me a look that's sappier than fucking molasses, and he claps a hand on my shoulder.

 

"Of course I do, Ness. I just want you to be happy."

 

Happy my ass. I'm almost out of the fire, in the home stretch, when Jasper pipes in, finally.

 

"Maybe what Renesmee needs is more time with the family. She and Jake have been away so long..." He trailed off dangerously, and in my head I thought happy-happy  laser-fucking-guided daggers at his stupid face. Suddenly I find myself in the frying pan.

 

Alice lets out a gasp, and claps her hands in a way that makes her look like some brain-damaged seal. "Jasper, honey, you're a genius. I bet Nessie here is just homesick. Some time with Edward and Bella- sorry~ Mom and Dad will do her wonders. What do you think, Jake?"

 

My mask drops for but a moment, and I blanch inside and out. This time I know Jasper spotted it.

 

"I dunno if that's really necessary. I mean, I'm happy here. I dunno-" But I'm ignored staunchly by the 'grown-ups'. A thicker wave washes over me, and I allow myself to narrow my eyes at Jasper, before I settle my mask in fully and return to utter complacency.

 

Alice spares me only a wave of the hand- her universal signal of 'Hush dear, the adults are talking'. My emotions no longer mine, I take the time to study Jasper's face while I sit like the happiest little camper there ever was.

 

His jawline is very strong, and I try to count the scars to pass the time while the "grown-ups" plan my return to Alcatraz. It seems Daddy dearest's family is taking up residence in a little town in Oregon- only a few hours from here. Gag.

 

Uncle Jasper's eyes are studying me just as intently. I wonder if he notices the hairlines cracks from where I've tried to shred myself, all healed ever so prettily into a web of nearly invisible scars across my body. It's been so long, I wonder if they're even visible to a vampire who isn't aware of what they're looking for.

 

I follow the claw and bite marks down his neck, until they vanish under his shirt. He'd be almost as supermodel looking as the rest of my family- but the scars suggested something deeper to him. I had always taken his quietness to be disinterest, maybe even a slowness of the mind. But now I noticed something, his every movement precise, and planned to the last gesture. His scars didn't heal as nicely as mine did. All bright warning signs- declaring his past at every turn to any vampire who happened to be watching.

 

I let my mind drift to butterflies, an unfortunate side-effect of the calming emotions Jasper is feeding me. I fight the urge to go follow some bumblebees, and I feel like I'm slogging through quicksand, every movement slowing me down even more. I barely notice myself listing to as I slump to the side, drifting into unconsciousness for the first time in a long while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, chapters 4-5 will be up soon.


End file.
